


Don't Look Back

by Liralen



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Law Enforcement, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Angst, M/M, bottom!Jared
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-17
Updated: 2012-02-17
Packaged: 2017-10-31 07:34:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liralen/pseuds/Liralen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the Bottom!Jared Fanworks Fest: 'In which Jared is a hustler and Jeff is a no-nonsense cop.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Look Back

"Third time this month, kid," Jeff says conversationally as he leans Jared against the wall and pulls his arms behind his back. "I told you to stay off my beat."  
  
"And I told you to find a different beat that didn't run through my work zone," Jared quips back over his shoulder.  
  
Jeff cocks his head, considering, gaze hot on the bare nape of Jared's neck where the dark curtain of his hair has fallen forward. "Actually, I think you said, 'Go fuck yourself, pig.'"  
  
"That's a possibility," Jared allows. He lays his forehead against the cool stucco wall, waiting to feel the bite of the ziptie around his wrists. He's surprised it's taken this long, surprised Jeff let him off with stern warnings the last two times. Jeff didn't seem the type to mess around.  
  
When a minute has passed and Jeff still hasn't cuffed him, Jared starts to sweat. "We gonna get this show on the road, officer?" he asks, cockier than he feels.  
  
"You're pretty eager to get hauled in," Jeff observes dryly. Jared just shrugs. "You holding anything? Anything that's... gonna get you in trouble?"  
  
"I don't do drugs," Jared spits. He feels weirdly offended and hurt that Jeff would assume he's just another strung-out street whore; but then, why would he think anything else? To Jeff, Jared is nothing but a nuisance and a waste of paperwork. Jared makes his voice hard and cutting when he says, "Thanks for the concern, you can take me in."  
  
He tries not to feel disappointed when Jeff secures the ziptie around his wrists and hauls him away.  
  
*  
  
Jared spends a warm night in jail, eats dinner on the city's dime and sleeps on a cot cleaner than what he has at home. He sweet-talks a cup of coffee out of the young sergeant at the desk before they release him the next morning, goes back to the apartment to shower and change before hitting his day job washing dishes in the back of a taqueria. By ten o'clock he's back on the same corner where Jeff picked him up 24 hours ago.  
  
He tells himself he isn't waiting for Jeff to come back, but every new set of headlights that rounds the corner starts his heart racing, until he's sick and shaky with adrenaline. Jeff doesn't show up, though, and by the time Jared calls it a night a little past 2 a.m. his mouth is bitter with the taste of more than nicotine and come.  
  
He doesn't know why he wants to see the cop so much, especially after last night, when Jeff finally made good on his threats to take Jared in. Not that Jared holds it against him. He doesn’t mind being dragged off the street every once in awhile, honestly; they never find anything to hold him on, and it's like a mini-vacation, a free night's stay somewhere quiet and clean before they kick him back out in the morning. He just can't let it happen too often or it gets bad for business. No one wants to hang around a whore that's always drawing the cops.  
  
Jeff has always been professional and even fairly pleasant to Jared, in his own gruff way, which is enough in itself to set him apart. Most cops don't give him the time of day, don't treat him like a person, just a problem to be solved and rid of.  
  
Jared tried to run the first time they met, tried to get a hand down Jeff's pants and work his way out of trouble the second, and got exactly nowhere with either approach. Jeff had blushed a little and batted his hand away, but he'd looked almost amused when he'd told Jared that he wasn't interested in helping him work out his daddy issues.  
  
Jared doesn't have daddy issues, for the record. Or, well—okay, he probably does, but they're more of the "never-knew-my-deadbeat-dad" and less of the bad-touch variety. And despite his claims, Jeff probably isn't actually old enough to be Jared's father. Jared doesn't know how old he is, but he'd guess somewhere in his early thirties, giving them about a 15 year age difference. Not that big a deal. Catherine Zeta-Jones makes it work, and Jeff is a million times hotter than Michael Douglas.  
  
That's mostly what it comes down to, in the end: Jeff is majorly hot. And nice. And he talks to Jared like he's a person. It's a pretty rare combination in Jared's life. It's just Jared's luck that it had to come together in a cop who wants nothing from him except for him to stay out of trouble.  
  
Jared has no intention of staying out of trouble. He needs the money too badly, and washing dishes doesn't pay the rent. And if trouble is the only way he can see Jeff again, he'll take as much of it as he can stand.  
  
*  
  
Jeff tells himself that he doesn't go looking for the kid. He doesn't. It isn't his fault he's got the shit-ass beat through the center of cracktown, or that where the drugs and money go, the hookers follow. It isn't his fault that Jared's mixed up in it and too dumb or reckless or desperate to take Jeff's advice and get out. Soliciting is illegal, and Jeff's an officer of the law. If he sees Jared, he has to stop him. That's his job.  
  
Funny, though, how he cruises down the streets on his nightly patrols and manages to pick out the same silhouette, over and over. He stands out, somehow, his height and his youth and his pretty goddamn face, too pretty to be wasting away out here. Jeff wants to smack some sense into him, ask him what the hell he thinks he's doing with his life. He wants to take him home and feed him grilled cheese sandwiches, make him do his homework and wash between his toes. He wants to keep Jared somewhere warm and clean and safe, and, yeah, fuck him through the bed, too. But he can't do any of that. Can't even really think it, so he does his job and hopes it's enough, that one day it will be enough.  
  
Jeff eases the unmarked cruiser around a corner and immediately catches blurred movement in his peripheral vision, coming from Jared's usual spot on the street. He sees a flash of dark hair, the jerky movements of a struggle, cataloging the details automatically. Before his conscious brain can even begin to make sense of it he finds himself pulling the cruiser over, rolling the front tires up onto the curb, yanking the shift into park and leaping out of the door in one quick motion. Three long steps carry him to the scene and he's reaching out, grabbing the back of a scruffy blond head and wrenching the guy almost off his feet.  
  
"Get the fuck out of here," he growls, low and even into the face of a terrified looking college-aged meathead. "I ever see you around here again, I'll have you up on attempted rape charges so fast you won't have time to say 'lawyer'."  
  
The jock takes off running as soon as he's released, and Jeff turns all his attention to Jared. The kid's leaning up against the wall, one elbow braced against the brick to keep him steady, the other arm wrapped around his chest. He's out of breath, panting and coughing a little, but to Jeff's surprise he manages to throw him a tiny smile.  
  
"Whew," Jared says, massaging a spot high on his ribs. "That was kinda close, huh?"  
  
Anger overtakes Jeff like a summer storm, swift and terrible. He watches Jared's eyes flash dark and scared and feels a small thrum of satisfaction in it as he grabs the kid's shoulders and pushes him hard against the wall, pressing until his shoulder blades are grinding into the brick.  
  
"What the fuck is wrong with your head, kid," he spits into Jared's face. He looks younger like this, all the toughness frightened out of him, just a too-tall, too-skinny, too-pretty boy lost on the wrong side of the city. "You think this is a joke? You think this is a game?"  
  
"It isn't a fucking game," Jared snarls, still scared, but a little angry, too. "I know it isn't a fucking game, it's my fucking life. Sometimes it gets a little rough. I deal."  
  
"A _little rough?_ Jared—" Something flashes through Jared's eyes when Jeff says his name, something hot and dark that he struggles to ignore. "That guy could have raped you. He could have _hurt_ you, fuck, he could've—"  
  
"But he didn't." Jeff's breath catches, the words dying in his throat at the look Jared gives him. "He didn't. You were here. You were watching out for me." Jared licks his lips, and Jeff's gaze falls to his mouth long enough that when he pulls it back up with a flare of guilt Jared is smiling, triumphant. "You're always watching out for me."  
  
Jeff wants to say something smart, something mean and biting to put Jared in his place, to smack some sense into his dumb head. Instead he's crushing the kid back into the wall with the weight of his body, grinding his mouth against Jared's soft lips in a savage kiss, all anger and fear and guilty, sick desire. It's hungry and demanding, not asking but _taking_ exactly what he wants, and Jared just opens up for him and lets him have it. He's warm and pliant under Jeff's mouth and hands, all easy surrender, and it takes Jeff a moment to realize that pathetic little whine is coming from _him_ as he grinds himself against Jared's thigh, so hard he's afraid he might pass out.  
  
"Yes, yes," Jared's mumbling, so soft it takes a few moments for Jeff to register it as he bites and sucks his way down Jared's neck, worrying the soft skin between his teeth. "God, yes, please. Want you so bad, been wanting you—please—so bad—"  
  
Jeff groans deep in his chest, ducks his head and bites sharply at Jared's nipple through his t-shirt just to hear him yelp. "Shut up," he growls, but he finds Jared's mouth against for a slightly gentler kiss as he reaches a hand down to work the kid's jeans open.  
  
There's nothing but bare skin under the denim, the wiry curl of hairs and then smooth, hot flesh, and Jeff moans, gunshot, fisting his hand around Jared's cock and pulling hard and slow. Jared shudders in his arms. Only a beat later he's got his hands down in Jeff's pants, fumbling with the belt and banging his wrist into Jeff's hip holster, cursing and complaining as he pulls impatiently at everything until he can work a hand inside.  
  
It's like closing a circuit: Jared's hand curls around him and electricity jolts through Jeff's spine, sparking his synapses. Jared's still mouthing off, babbling something around his curses, and Jeff pushes his free hand against the kid's mouth, just to shut him up. Jared startles into silence for a split second; then he's opening his mouth, drawing two of Jeff's fingers inside, and the _goodhottight_ pull at both his fingers and his cock leaves Jeff reeling, unsteady and dangerous and desperate for more.  
  
"Holy fuck, kid. Your fucking mouth. God damn." Jeff staggers upright and tips his head back just to watch his fingers fuck slowly in and out of Jared's mouth, wet and sloppy, Jared's huge hazel eyes rolled closed in pleasure. "Fuck, Jared. I want to—" He see-saws his wet fingers from Jared's mouth, slides them between Jared's legs and strokes along the curve of his ass, a clear question.  
  
Jared jerks like he's been stabbed, and for a moment Jeff sees this whole thing going down in flames. Then Jared's melting against him, hips canting as his head tips back. "Please, oh, god, Jeff, _please_ ," he begs, struggling to push his jeans down further with his free hand, to widen his thighs enough to let Jeff's fingers slip inside.  
  
He's already wet with lube, slicked up but still tight; doesn't feel like he's been fucked tonight. Jeff doesn't let himself think about that. Instead he works his fingers deeper into Jared's ass, sharp little thrusts to open him up for longer, smoother strokes, probing and rubbing until Jared is writhing and fucking himself back on Jeff's hand. His rhythm on Jared's cock falters, but Jared doesn't seem to mind, his own fist still firm and hot around Jeff's dick, dragging him along with quick, steady strokes.  
  
"Gonna come soon," Jeff says, sucking at Jared's throat. "You gonna come for me, Jared? I want you to. I want to see it. Show me, show me how good it feels, fucking come for me."  
  
Jeff gives a hard twisting stab of his fingers, and Jared convulses and spills with a sharp noise, cock barely touched. Like the professional he is, he never stops the motion of his own hand, and Jeff follows a minute later, sliding his fingers free to grab onto Jared's shoulders with both hands, muffling his gasp against Jared's mouth.  
  
Pulling away is a painful effort and they both groan at the loss; Jared chases his mouth, struggling weakly against his hold. Jeff tightens his grip on the kid's shoulders, pushes him more firmly against the wall, and Jared relents and submits with a soft sigh that makes Jeff shudder down to his toes.  
  
"Jesus Christ," Jeff gasps, closing his eyes to try and block out the image of Jared fucked-out and red-mouthed with kissing. "You stupid fucking kid, you're gonna fucking kill me. Kill us both, god _damn_ it. Jared. No."  
  
"Yes," Jared counters immediately, still breathless. "Yes, Jeff—"  
  
"Jared." Jeff squeezes his eyes shut tight, shakes his head, but his voice is softer, gentler when he speaks again. "Can't do this. I _can't_. I shouldn't have done that."  
  
"I wanted you to," Jared argues. "I still want you to. Fuck, Jeff, I want—"  
  
"I should have arrested that guy tonight, Jared. I should have arrested him for assault, battery, attempted rape, but then I would have had to arrest _you_ for soliciting." Jeff opens his eyes, breathing out heavily. "Do you understand? That's my job. I can't do my job around you."  
  
"It doesn't have to be like that."  
  
Yeah, Jeff thinks, it does. He sighs, dropping his hands reluctantly to tuck himself away and get his uniform straightened up. He watches Jared's hands copy the motions, unable to meet his eyes.  
  
"You're just a kid," he says, softly. "You could do so much more than this. Get out of here, Jared. Go make something amazing out of your life. Walk away and don't look back."  
  
"Jeff, please," Jared begs, voice rough with emotion. "I want—can't you just—"  
  
"I don't want to see you on my beat again, kid," Jeff says gruffly, giving Jared a curt nod and forcing himself to walk away.  
  
*  
  
Jeff stays away from that block for a full week. The next time he makes himself drive by on patrol, Jared is nowhere to be seen.


End file.
